


Night Sky with Optional Interior Lighting

by TheNinth



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Gen, Second Person Narration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-21
Updated: 2006-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-05 09:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNinth/pseuds/TheNinth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was originally written during the Tritter arc -- set at the point where Tritter has frozen all of Wilson's assets and he's living in a hotel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Sky with Optional Interior Lighting

The night sky and the streetlights mix with the fluorescent tubes over your head and cast reflections in the window of the bus. You can see yourself as a shadow. The fall of your hair and the slope of your nose, nodding next to you. Your collar turned up against the cold November night that penetrates the bus each time the door opens to let people on or off.

You never realised just how far from the hospital you lived until you had to take this indirect route. It's a little over eight miles and on a good day you could drive it in about fifteen minutes. The bus, however, goes north and west for what feels like forever before swinging east and south, where you need to go.

Cuddy offered you a ride, but you didn't want her to see where you were living. Not that that matters much, does it, James? You're only paid for another two weeks and then what? Where will you end up next? At least you accepted her offer of bus fare. She gave you enough for the week. You hope someone can loan you enough for the next week. And the week after that. And the week after that.

You try to make eye-contact with your shadow, but turning your head to face him puts his features in shadow. You're left with the ghost of an ear and a bit of your collar. And that's really all you are right now. A ghost of what you were. A shadow of what you had.

The bus turns a corner and you see a single headlight coming from the opposite direction. The name "House" forms on your lips and then you realise it's only an old Chevy Nova with the passenger side light burnt out. What would you have done if it had been him, anyhow? Stuck your head out of the window and flailed? Begged his forgiveness? It's what you always do. House makes the mistake and you apologise for letting him make it.

Not this time, Jimmy. Not this time. Not when you stop at the desk of the hotel and ask if there are any messages. There aren't, because no one knows you're here. The only consolation in this whole mess is the fact that your phone was in your car. You're missing all the calls from ex-wives and their lawyers who want to know where your alimony payments are.

You let yourself into your room and fall backward onto the bed, still fully dressed, down to your expensive shoes and your silk tie and your pens neatly arranged in your pocket. The night sky mixes with the lights in the room and you can see yourself as a shadow on the window. With the flick of a switch you're left with just the night sky and what you swear is a single taillight in the distance.


End file.
